


Late Nights

by sartiebodyshots



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/F, OC Kiss Week
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-06
Updated: 2017-02-06
Packaged: 2018-09-22 09:42:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,193
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9602180
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sartiebodyshots/pseuds/sartiebodyshots
Summary: Ianthe Adaar is up late reading in Skyhold's library when she catches sight of Inquisitor Selena Lavellan, figuring it might be the only chance to talk to the famed Inquisitor one on one.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [beammetothemoon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/beammetothemoon/gifts).



> I am super late but Moon is super patient and was super kind to let me play around with her Inquisitor!

Ianthe marks her place in her book, closing it softly.  It’s been yet another late night at the library.  She’s enjoyed having the opportunity to learn more about the world outside mercenary work since coming into the employ of Inquisitor Selena Lavellan, but sometimes it makes her brain feel so full.  

She rests her cheek on her head, propping her heavy head up and surveying the room.  There’s only one other person also awake this late, and it’s no one other than the Inquisitor herself.

Since the other woman looks about half asleep, too, Ianthe gets to her feet and crosses the room to sit beside her.  They’ve talked more than a few times since the Valo-Kas joined up with the Inquisition, but mostly in larger public settings, with other people around.  Getting the chance to talk to her under more intimate circumstances is an exciting prospect.

“You’re up late,” Ianthe comments, hoping that she’s not intruding.  

“So’re you,” Inquisitor Lavellan says with a soft smile that sets her at ease.  “But really, I’ve been reading this same page for an hour.  I’ve basically been asleep.”

“This isn't the most comfortable place for sleeping,” Ianthe says.  “At least, I hope your bed is more comfortable than these tables.”

Inquisitor Lavellan marks her place in her book before setting it aside.  She looks at Ianthe with a sleepy gleam in her eyes.  Honestly, Ianthe is slightly concerned that the woman before her is about to fall right asleep.  What do you do when the Inquisitor falls asleep on the table?  Carrying her to her room seems undignified, but so does poking her awake.

“It is,” Inquisitor Lavellan says, stifling a yawn.  “I have a question.  I don't know if it's rude, and if it is, just tell me so.”

“I'm sure it's fine,” Ianthe says, bemused.  

“Okay…” Inquisitor Lavellan bites her lip for a moment.  “How do you sleep?” 

Ianthe knits her brows in confusion.  “I close my eyes?  Do the Dalish not do that?”

Inquisitor Lavellan blushes red.  “We do!  But, you have, you know, the horns.  It seems like they’d be uncomfortable, especially while lying down.”

Ianthe laughs.  Oooh, this question.  “I always thought not having horns seemed weird.  Your head is so… light.  So unprotected.  Or so I’d guess.”

“Well, when you put it that way, it's a dumb question,” Inquisitor Lavellan says.  

“Nah,” Ianthe says.  “I've always been curious about not having horns, so I can understand the curiosity about having them.  I’d give it a try, but if you cut them off, they're gone forever.  Not quite ready to make that leap.”

“I noticed that some of the Valo-Kas didn’t have any horns.  I assumed that something happened to them,” Inquisitor Lavellan says.  “It must hurt.”

Truthfully, it surprises Ianthe that she had made any note of the mercenary group she’s a part of, or really any mercenary group in particular.  There are more people flocking to the Inquisition every day, and she must have so much on her mind.  

“Nah.  We can’t really feel anything in our horns,” Ianthe says.  She leans forward, so she’s closer to level with the other woman.  “They're kind of like fingernails.  They feel different, though, and you have to be slightly more aware of where they are, so you don’t poke anyone.”

Inquisitor Lavellan laughs sweetly.  “I’d imagine.  At least you’re taller than most people!  That must make things a little easier.”

Ianthe can’t help but laugh along with the other woman.  “But I grew up with other Vashoth and Tal-Vashoth.  While a lot of the Tal-Vashoth cut their horns off, the other Vashoth mostly kept them.  It  _ did  _ mean a lot of careful shuffling when we all gathered together, though, particularly in tight spaces.”

“I’m impressed more of you don’t have an eyepatch like the Iron Bull,” Inquisitor Lavellan says.

“We manage, somehow,” Ianthe says.  

They giggle again, the atmosphere suddenly humming with a quiet strain of tension.  A warm feeling settles lightly in her stomach.  Maybe it has to do with the late hour, but she feels more relaxed than she has in a long time.

“Do you want to touch them?” Ianthe asks when the silence has stretched on too long.  

“Is that rude?” Inquisitor Lavellan asks, brow crinkling.  

“I mean, if you just grabbed a Vashoth’s horn, you’d probably lose a hand, but it’s fine if I’m offering.  Everyone feels differently about it,” Ianthe says with a shrug.  “Just don’t be presumptive, you know?”

“I think I can manage that,” Inquisitor Lavellan says with a small smile.

“I’m sure you can,” Ianthe says.

Inquisitor Lavellan stretches out a hesitant hand that turns more certain when Ianthe nods encouragingly.  She runs her fingers along Ianthe’s horn, tracing the corkscrew pattern.  It’s not anything that Ianthe can feel, but she can see the intrigued look on her face.

“They’re so smooth,” Inquisitor Lavellan says softly.  “I thought they’d be rougher.”

“They can get that way if you don’t maintain them properly,” Ianthe says.

Inquisitor Lavellan hums as she pulls her hand hand away.  The tension in the atmosphere deepens and for the briefest of moments, Ianthe forgets who she’s talking to.  

Unfortunately for her, it only takes a brief moment to do something very stupid.  

Ianthe leans forward to press her lips to Selena’s, reaching a hand up to cup her cheek.  It’s a quick kiss, so quick that Ianthe barely has time to make note of how her chapped lips feel against hers before she pulls away.  

They stare at each other for a moment with wide eyes.  The Inquisitor’s breath is warm against Ianthe’s lips, matching the heat rising on her cheeks.  

She just kissed the Inquisitor, the Herald of Andraste- and, shit, her hand is still on her cheek- which might be sacrilegious somehow.  Slowly withdrawing her hand, Ianthe tries to figure out what to say.  

“Sorry?” Ianthe finally says, voice tinged with nervous laughter.  “I’m not sure if you’re allowed to kiss the Inquisitor.”

That’s probably not the right thing to say.

“If the Inquisitor says it’s okay, it’s probably okay,” she says. 

Ianthe smiles in relief.  It's good to know she's not, like, going to be beheaded or anything.  Not that the Inquisitor is the beheading type!  But you never know.

“Probably, yeah,” Ianthe says.  “You  _ are _ the authority after all.”

Inquisitor Lavellan starts to speak, but is interrupted by a yawn.  “Sorry.  It's not you, I promise.  It's just late.”

Ianthe nods her head.  “I understand.”

“Perhaps we could pick this up some time when we're both a little more awake?” Inquisitor Lavellan asks with a surprising amount of hesitance.  

“Sounds good,” Ianthe says.  

Inquisitor Lavellan gives her a little nod before getting to her feet, presumably heading for her quarters.  

Ianthe sits at the table for a second, not wanting to awkwardly run into her on the stairwell. Plus, she wants to make sure that that really happened and wasn't just a particularly vivid dream.  That would be embarrassing.   

Once the Inquisitor’s footsteps have faded from hearing, Ianthe gets to her feet, whistling softly to herself the whole way back to her tent. 

**Author's Note:**

> Also you should 100% check out her wonderful art of the two of them [ here!](http://beammetothemoon.tumblr.com/post/156343306981/a-super-late-kiss-for-oc-kiss-week-selena)


End file.
